


Skylight

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: (touou!himuro)The longer they wait and pretend it’s not there or not important, the more it festers.





	Skylight

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after the first seirin/touou match
> 
> or the second, if you prefer
> 
> though in a world where tatsuya went to touou instead of yosen

They’re going to have to talk about this Kagami thing sooner or later. Tatsuya had kept it covered up, distracted Daiki with his flashy basketball moves and steel will and flirting, looks and words scattered carefully as to appear almost accidental. Tatsuya could help all of it, but knowing that now (or having an idea back then) is almost irrelevant, since he did it all to cover the thing he knew would reveal itself in time, by the first time they’d had to face Kagami in a game. It’s slowly withering, twisting to reveal itself, the past ties as knots under Tatsuya’s skin, buried so far deep Daiki can't feel them under his skin.

He wants to know. He needs to know. Part of it’s morbid curiosity, and that would exist in some form regardless of any personal investment in either Tatsuya or Kagami. He’s also a little bit mad that someone got to being Kagami’s rival first, and that the deep murky shit they have goes back deeper and longer than Daiki’s known anyone except for Satsuki. And he’s a little mad that someone could, somehow, make Tatsuya feel as awful as he does—Daiki knows the feeling of being betrayed by the game, of basketball taking away what had once been pure joy, and Tatsuya sure as hell feels that, but something else on top of it.

Blaming others for your own feelings is fucking stupid. Daiki’s realized that; Tatsuya’s said that if not in the same words, as if he was trying to convince himself. Maybe, Daiki thinks, it’s a little more complicated than that.

There is a lot to talk about but Daiki’s still sifting through his feelings, thinking about what’s most important. He can’t worry too much about scaring Tatsuya off (Tatsuya’s going to have to face his fears and worries at some point if they’re going to talk about it, and they can’t keep not talking about it). Daiki’s tried, but every time he finds another reason not to pull the thread and watch it unravel.  (What will it be like between them without this to prop their elbows up on, to dance around but get so close to it like this is some kind of contest? What will be left if something they’d built on top of and around is yanked out and imploded?)

It’s different from Teikou, though that sits between them too. That’s more like a food that Daiki used to love as a kid and that Tatsuya’s allergic to. Kind of. Or something, a smooth metal ball that Daiki holds in his hand but rolls away from Tatsuya when he reaches for it, out of static or magnetism—whatever it is, it’s no barrier. But it’s different, and Tatsuya’s tongue isn’t hot with words ready to drop and ask about it. (Would Daiki know if it was? Maybe not, but Tatsuya’s got a hell of a lot more patience than he does.)

They have to talk about Kagami, though. The longer they wait and pretend it’s not there or not important, the more it festers (Daiki knows all about that, and he’d bet Tatsuya does, too). So he makes up his mind again as he digs into his bento, for fortification. Today, as soon as the opportunity presents itself, a moment in the locker room or when they’re both cutting class or when they’re headed home from practice and he follows Tatsuya to the dorms.

Or, as Tatsuya sits down beside him, right now.

He’d decided as soon as; this is as soon as. If Ryou or Satsuki were going to show up, they would have by now, and no one else comes up on the roof for lunch.

Tatsuya opens up his own bento—it never looks as perfect as the ones Ryou makes, but it always tastes fucking good. Daiki almost reaches over and steals a piece of meat, but if he ends up teasing Tatsuya he’ll get teased back and then they’ll make out and he’ll spend all afternoon trying not to pop a boner in class and they won’t talk about it. So Daiki resists, sticking to his own neatly-sorted meal. The meat tastes like nothing in his mouth, yielding under his teeth like cardboard. He chews and chews. It’s not Ryou’s cooking; it’s his own body rebelling against the situation. He’s ridiculous. This isn’t that bad.

Tatsuya’s looking at him, revealing nothing in his eyes, and Daiki hates that about him. He’d thought, at the beginning, that it had made things simpler. No pity, no worship, no jealousy. Nothing at the surface, but he has an idea of what’s there now (though not enough of one to know what he’s going to say).

“This is about Taiga.”

He should have known Tatsuya would read him like a personals ad in the back of the newspaper and, this time, say something. The piece of meat is dry in his throat and he chews again, nodding.

Tatsuya takes another bite of food and waits. So he knows, and he wants to make sure Daiki knows he knows, but he’s still going to make Daiki ask the question himself. What an asshole, handing him the loaded topic like a mystery box with something probably rotten inside.

“What happened with you and him?” Daiki says.

Tatsuya shoves the sleeves of his jacket up past his elbows and looks away. “We had a fight. I couldn’t deal with him being better than me. No matter what I did—you know.”

Daiki does know, about hurtling through barriers and ending up on the other side, looking back and the people left behind can’t reach him. Tatsuya’s just on the other side of that, trying to break through without knowing how. If he’d never seen Tatsuya play, he’d know Tatsuya was talking about the exact same thing from the flatness in his voice, a slight but gaping difference from his usual practiced neutral tone.

“We were pretty close back in the day, but I let my jealousy and pettiness come between that, and I—said some stupid shit. We were about to have a match, and he threw it. And I…overreacted.”

“You?” says Daiki.

Tatsuya looks back at him. Some other time, this would amuse him, but he looks kind of miserable.

“Sorry,” says Daiki.

He wants to reach out and touch Tatsuya, but that could be seen as an invitation to drop this, and Tatsuya still has more to say (okay, more that he’ll let himself say).  

“Then I found out he was here. So I came here for a rematch, and I figured we’d see who was better, and then I’d go home and that would be that.”

Tatsuya fiddles with the cuff on his jacket, finger tracing the buttonhole.

“Are you mad?” says Daiki. “That I ruined your showdown.”

Tatsuya shakes his head. “I’m not mad at you.”

He’s mad at himself, for not being better than Daiki. Like after every practice and every game. The energy he runs on, a continuous implosion. There’s a lot more to this story, a lot that Tatsuya had left out, a lot more than Daiki can piece out and put together right now. But this much both satisfies his curiosity and eases Tatsuya, a little bit.

He reaches for Tatsuya’s hand. Tatsuya flips his palm up, still looking away. Daiki’s not going to tell him not to feel guilty, but he will give Tatsuya this. And maybe, right now, this helps.


End file.
